


Cookin’

by canicallyoumaddie



Series: Give Shance a chance [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Flirts, Fluffy Shance, M/M, Now they cook, Sequel, This is the corniest shit, but it’s so cute, not even sorry, shance, there’s more butt-grabs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 13:12:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13411974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canicallyoumaddie/pseuds/canicallyoumaddie
Summary: Lance and Shiro get home from shopping and start to cook; more ass-grabs happen, lots of flirting and laughter occur. It’s cheesy. Get ready for Domestic Fluff: The Sequel.





	Cookin’

**Author's Note:**

> HEY! I’m back at it again with more Shance. To be quite honest, Shance got me back into ficwriting so here I am again with a sequel to the first part, Shoppin’. This is a little longer, more groping, more kissing and flirts. I hope your hearts are warmed. 
> 
> Thanks to somebodeh-once-told-meh for looking this over for me! 
> 
> If you enjoy this please lmk! The comments on the first part gave me life and made me yell—i appreciate you so much.

The drive home takes a little longer than normal because they had gone to the fancy grocery store, rather than the normal grocery store by their house. Shiro didn’t mind, though, because he got to listen to Lance talk about how they were going to split up responsibilities for making their meal.

“Okay, so, we need to start cooking the meat and vegetables in the pan as soon as we can—why don’t you cut up the meat once we get home, and then I’ll get the beans ready?”

Shiro nods, keeping his eyes on the road. He mentally runs through the remaining turns; Lance has dragged him there so often that he has the route home memorized. “How do you want me to cut it up?” he asks.

“Probably into little strips, right? You’re calling my bluff, here—I’ve only made this once before and I had to look most of it up online,” Lance admits, sliding his hand across the console and onto Shiro’s knee.

Shiro laughs, then jumps as the hand moves upward towards the join of his leg and hip. “You’re gonna make me crash the car.”

Lance moves his hand back to Shiro’s knee, pouting. “You’re no fun.”

“Keeping you from making me run into a phone pole? Yeah, definitely no fun.” They look at each other: Lance with a look of exasperation and Shiro with a look of mild smugness.

“You’re using _safety_ against me,” Lance says, squeezing Shiro’s knee _hard_. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were giving me a challenge.”

Shiro tenses beneath Lance’s hand, and Lance grins. “But I won’t,” he continues, patting twice and returning his hands to his lap. “Because you genuinely want us to be safe, and for some weird reason I think that’s really hot.”

Shiro involuntarily snorts at the bluntness of Lance’s affection. It’s always so, so cute, but often occurs when Shiro isn’t in a position to tackle Lance onto a piece of furniture.

It’s _so_ unfair.

Thankfully, _mercifully_ they pull into their apartment parking lot not long afterwards.

Lance gets out first and scurries around the car to open Shiro’s door for him. Shiro gives him a dopey smile and gives him a big hug as he half-tumbles out of the car.

“I beat you this time!” Lance says, clearly proud of himself for getting to Shiro’s door first.

“Yes you did, you dork,” Shiro replies, pinching Lance’s side and making him giggle. “Hand me the groceries, will you?”

Lance obliges, slipping bags over Shiro’s hands and up his arms. “This is really why I keep you around,” he says with a wink. “My big, strong man—here to carry my bags for me.”

Shiro rolls his eyes, but the gaze that lands on Lance is fond as he follows him up the stairs and into the apartment.

  
#

“Alright, mister—chop, chop,” Lance says once the area is prepped for cooking. “I need to sear that before I add the beans.”

Shiro gives him a quick kiss before doing as he’s told, happy to help, even though his own cooking prowess was…nonexistent. He remembers his single and only attempt at making his boyfriend dinner; he’d failed spectacularly, producing an unsalvageable mess. Thankfully, Lance was nothing if not gracious and accepted his offer to order takeout instead. The night, albeit a fiasco in the beginning, actually turned out to be one of his best memories of their early relationship.

Unfortunately, all this reminiscing makes Shiro work much more slowly than he needs to be, which catches Lance’s attention. He looks over from where he’s working and shakes his head at a completely space-cadet-style zoned out Shiro and rolls his eyes. “Sweetheart,” Lance says, trying to snap Shiro out of his reverie. “The chicken.”

Shiro blinks at him absently for a moment until recognition returns to his eyes and he makes the most adorable and embarrassed expression. “Oops. Sorry.”

Lance leaves the heating pan in favor of wrapping his arms around Shiro’s waist.

“What’cha thinking about?” he asks, running slender fingers over rock-hard abs. Swoon.

Shiro laughs. “Remember the time I tried to make you dinner?” he says.

Oh, Lance remembers. “I seem to recall you trying to poison me with terrible cooking.” His smile diffuses any guilt that tries to appear on Shiro’s face. “Yes, I remember. It was very thoughtful, albeit very misguided.” He stands on his tiptoes to get a clear shot at Shiro’s cheek for a kiss.

“So, so misguided.”

Shiro resumes cutting the chicken and passes it to Lance, who begins to cook it. When they finally get to a stopping point, Lance gives Shiro the corniest wink he’s ever seen.

“That is _horrible_ ,” Shiro says, smiling broadly. “You went all out on that one.”

“I’m amazing and a _delight_ ,” Lance replies, sliding on sock feet across the linoleum and using Shiro to stop his momentum. He looks up with a lopsided grin and says, “We have a little while until the next step,” with an obvious wink.

Shiro looks over at Lance’s phone, which has a timer for twenty minutes ticking down. “Twenty minutes?” he says. “That’s not a whole lot of time.”

Lance furrows his eyebrows and pouts. “You’re wasting our short time by talking so much.”

“You’re right,” Shiro says, and leans down to catch Lance’s lips with his own. “I guess twenty minutes is enough time for a _little_ fooling around.”

“Eighteen minutes, now.”

“Fine. Eighteen minutes,” Shiro concedes, choosing to pick Lance up by the legs and sling him over his shoulder. “The kitchen is uncomfortable—let’s go somewhere softer than a Formica countertop.”

Lance doesn’t even protest; in fact, he’s _living_. Shiro knows how much he likes to be manhandled, and this is _definitely_ one of Lance’s favorite things about having a ripped boyfriend. He uses his vulnerable position to his advantage and takes a grab at Shiro’s ass, which doesn’t even faze him.

“Have I told you that I _love_ your ass lately?” Lance sighs, patting out a rhythm as Shiro enters their bedroom.

Shiro laughs. “Yes, but you can tell me again,” he says, tossing Lance onto the bed with gusto. Lance bounces with a giggle.

“I _love_ your ass.”

Shiro blushes, and a grin overtakes his face. “Tell me again.”

Lance gets up on his knees and awkwardly walks toward the edge of the bed, where he’s at pec-level with Shiro. He looks up and takes Shiro’s face in his hands. “Your ass is amazing, you look fire in those pants, and I love your ass.”

Shiro scoops Lance into his arms, taking advantage of his angle to do some ass-grabbing of his own. “Yours isn’t so bad, you know,” he says, letting Lance wrap his legs around his waist.

“Mine is flatter than a pancake, but I appreciate the compliment,” Lance replies, gasping a little when Shiro squeezes slightly.

“Mmm, not when you wear those yoga pants,” Shiro murmurs into Lance’s neck moments before biting the junction at his shoulder.

“N-no fair,” Lance breathes, squirming in Shiro’s tight grip. “That’s cheating.”

“Payback for earlier, then,” Shiro replies (once he’s finished with the hickey he’d just made), and Lance can hear the smirk in his voice. “Oh,” Shiro continues, “about that ass, though. I could watch you walk ahead of me for days.”

“Well of course it looks good in yoga pants. Even the flattest of asses can look good in spandex,” Lance says, pressing kisses onto Shiro’s hairline. “But I’m choosing to take the compliment and this complimentary groping.”

Shiro groans. “Why is it that when you make puns it’s hot? It shouldn’t be hot.”

“You’ve started to associate my puns with sexy times—that’s the only explanation,” Lance says, laughing. “I’ve achieved my self-actualization. This is my peak.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Matter of opinion.”

Shiro chooses to reply with a deep kiss; one that sends lightning shooting through their veins and sets their hearts racing. Lance runs a hand through Shiro’s hair, ruffling it slightly. Shiro’s too busy pressing kisses to Lance’s jawline, only stopping in favor of biting and sucking on Lance’s earlobe.

“We’re gonna burn dinner,” Lance says, barely able to get a coherent sentence out.

“No, we’re not,” Shiro breathes into Lance’s ear. “You worry too much.”

Lance lets out a wheeze. “You? Saying I worry too much? Good one, babe.” He feels Shiro’s grip relax ever so slightly, so he wiggles a little bit. “Why are you stopping?”

Shiro lowers Lance back onto the bed, seemingly distracted. At the last minute he scoops Lance into a princess carry and takes them back toward the kitchen.

Lance squeals. “What are you doing?” His shrieks are followed by laughter. “Put me down!”

“You said we were gonna burn dinner,” Shiro says, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m just making sure we prevent that from happening!”

“You are being soooo unfair.”

Shiro’s face is one of mock concern. “Me? Unfair?” He scoffs. “I am the picture of justice.”

Lance just pouts, crossing his arms. “Are not.”

Shiro gently places him back on his feet, but not before giving him a few kisses in quick succession on the lips.

“Yeah, yeah. I love you too,” Lance grumbles. He’s unable to hide his dopey smile, though, despite his attempts to divert attention to dinner and away from him. He stirs the rice, but leaves his back turned as an invitation for Shiro to come up behind him.

Lance smiles when Shiro takes the hint, and holds up a spoon over his shoulder. “Want to try it?” he says, and laughs when Shiro just leans in to take the bite, rather than holding the spoon himself.

“It’s good.”

“Better than what you made, at least.”

Shiro squeezes Lance’s hip and shakes him a little. “I mean it—you’re good at this.”

Lance waves a hand, dismissing the comment. “Fine, _I’ll_ try it.” He samples the food in front of him and whirls around, nearly knocking heads with Shiro. “Wait, that’s really good—I’m a genius.”

Shiro laughs so hard he snorts. “I told you so.”

“You never doubted me.” Lance leans back onto Shiro’s chest, absorbing the warmth radiating from him.

“Of course not.”

Lance pretends to swoon. “My hero!”

Shiro’s kiss on Lance’s neck turns into a raspberry, which makes Lance giggle. “The secret is out, I’m actually Superman,” Shiro says, smirking.

“Okay, Clark, well it’s almost ready—so if you’d please get the plates out?” Lance bats his eyelashes and Shiro shakes his head.

“You’re the biggest dork,” he says, reaching up into cabinets to grab their dishes. After placing them on the table, he adds, “But then again, so am I, so I guess we’re perfect for each other.”

“For that and other reasons,” Lance says with a big smile and a wink.

A few minutes later, they were both sitting down to eat. Shiro eats quietly as he listens to Lance retell a story he’d told the day before, but had forgotten. A smile works it’s way across his face as he nods along, heart melting at his boyfriend’s enthusiasm and zest for life. It’s always a refreshing way to end a day, and although their routine is repetitive, moments like these make Shiro remember why he fell for Lance in the first place.


End file.
